


Reality

by Alexa_Piper



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, Identity Reveal, backdated fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22418194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexa_Piper/pseuds/Alexa_Piper
Summary: In reality, situations are often uncomfortable, and they rarely go to plan.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

William Lancer glared half-heartedly out the windscreen. Grumbling, he double-checked that his overcoat was buttoned securely before forcing open the door of his vehicle – it was due in for repairs after Jack Fenton had sideswiped William in order to run a set of red traffic lights. Maddie had graciously offered to pay the bill, but until then, Mr Lancer was reduced to driving from place to place in a car that was missing a wing mirror on the drivers' side, the door dented so that it stuck every time it was shut.

That was only part of the reason for his bad mood.

Mr Lancer ducked his head, snapping his collar up against the driving snow. In the time that it took to lock his car, the teacher was already shivering violently. He walked against the wind, hugging himself as he approached the teachers' back door of Casper High. Lancer hated winter – pausing on the step to fumble with his keys, the man's vision blurred for a moment. He gave a cry, launching himself backwards as a flurry of snowflakes blew full-force into his unprotected face. He teetered for a moment before an incremental _shift_ took hold of his centre.

William fell backwards onto the icy asphalt with a shriek, landing hard. Caught up in the pain and frustration, he let loose a stream of colourful words, cursing anything colder than a refrigerator. Mr Lancer hated the cold.

The only thing he loathed more than simple coldness was snow.

Labouring to his feet and rubbing at his smarting buttocks, the balding teacher mounted the step once again, unlocking the door and stepping smartly inside. The door shut with a soft click, the blizzard reduced to a dull roar.

It was almost as cold inside the building as it had been in the snow.

Adjusting his scarf and flicking a switch that turned on the corridor lights, Lancer limped in the direction of his office. His footsteps echoed down the eerily silent walkways, and the teacher had half a mind to start humming a tune to himself. No sooner than he had started _Ode to Joy_ , a voice rang out from the direction of the seniors' lockers.

"Is anybody there?"

Lancer froze, and the voice sounded again. "Oh, please… Please, whoever you are, _get me out of here!_ " The cry was weak, the voice hoarse but still recognisable.

Dread settled in Lancer's gut. "I'm coming!" he called in response, breaking into a sprint. Rounding the corner, the teacher was once again shocked into standing still.

Two glowing cages rose from the floor, neatly encasing their occupants. In one, a glowing green puppy was curled on the floor, its red eyes carefully surveying the newcomer. In the cage next to it, Daniel Fenton crouched. He was shivering violently, wearing nothing but a pair of lightweight pyjamas.

The flabbergasted teacher was spurred into movement by the hacking cough that emanated from his pupil. "Mr Fenton!" he exclaimed, rushing to kneel in front of the tiny cage. "What in Dickens' name happened to you?"

Danny flinched slightly at the man's shout. "Could you get me some water?" he asked weakly, motioning to the door that led to the teachers' lounge. "I've been here since Friday night."

When Lancer returned with three bottles of water, the boy drained two of them, and half of the third. As he drank, Lancer boiled the kettle and fetched a hot water bottle from the nurse's office. The imprisoned boy clutched to this like a lifeline, drawing it close to his chest. Shucking his overcoat, the teacher proceeded to reach through the bars and throw it around his pupil.

"I'm going to try to get you out of here," he announced, locking eyes with the teen.

Danny managed a weak smile. "Thanks," he breathed, curling tighter around the hot water bottle.

Lancer appraised the cage. So far, he had not touched the bars, being exceedingly careful when passing things to Danny – the teacher had always been wary of things that glowed. But now… Now he had no choice. Reaching out, he wrapped a hand around one of the glowing bars, trying to gauge its strength and stability.

Danny gave a cry of warning, but it was too late – with a whoosh that set the hairs on his neck prickling, a glowing cage materialised around Lancer, effectively trapping him in a crouched position.

The teen swore. "Didn't my parents tell you about the new ghost traps?" he demanded.

Lancer opened and closed his mouth dumbly. The Fentons _had_ told him, only a week or so beforehand – Casper High had been sustaining significant damage most weekends due to spectral activity. The school board had finally commissioned the Fentons to protect the place, and Maddie and Jack had responded with zeal. They had fitted the place with an ingenious system of traps, triggered by the smallest ectosignature. Any ghost on the premises would be imprisoned, and anybody who touched the spectre's confinement would find themself in a similar situation. The security system was built with an additional feature that had been previously unheard of – the lack of alarms. Nobody would know about the caged victims until the school opened its doors on Monday morning.

"Oh, _hell,_ " Lancer groaned, leaning back against the bars of his cage.

Danny shifted, as though trying to get comfortable. This was difficult, considering that the only way to sit in the cage was cross-legged, and to lie down – as the teen was currently doing – one had to be curled in a ball. The cage was far too small to stand up; the only way for one to even remotely stretch their legs without getting stuck was to kneel with their knees at ninety degrees. To have been there for as long as Fenton had – Lancer shuddered. The boy's limbs must be cramped to an excruciating degree.

"Why are you here on a Sunday morning anyway?" Danny queried. His voice rasped, eyes dull as they met the older man's.

"I came to collect my mobile from my office," Lancer confessed. "My landline cut out when the snowfall turned to a blizzard late last night."

The student snorted. "Seriously? You came out in a blizzard to get your _phone?_ You _do_ realise that it probably won't work thanks to the storm."

Lancer sent the boy a half-hearted glare. "All the same, I need it."

The boy tilted his head from his curled position. "Why?"

The teacher shifted uncomfortably before deciding to turn the conversation around. "Why are _you_ here, Mr Fenton? You said you've been here since Friday night." Lancer's cheeks reddened slightly. "Th-that can't be true, considering your alarming regularity for bathroom breaks during class. This place looks pretty… erm… clean."

It was difficult to tell if Danny's cheeks flushed in embarrassment, or if they were simply red with his cold. "I have good aim," he stated simply, flicking his eyes to a dustbin sitting against the wall, just out of arm's reach.

Lancer's cheeks were burning now. "Erm… Right. But how did you get in this position in the first place?"

The teen pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling Lancer's overcoat tighter around his wiry, pyjama-clad form. "It's complicated."

"I think we have time."

Danny's stare was calculating, as though he were deciding exactly what lie to tell. Lancer met this look with an unwavering stare of his own, oddly satisfied when the teen looked away with a sigh. "The ghosts like to pick on me."

The confession wasn't surprising. Lancer liked to think himself an observant man – he had noticed over the past few years that Danny sported more bruises and other small injuries than could possibly be caused by Dash. He had initially suspected abuse, but over time it had become obvious that these injuries were not caused by the teen's doting parents.

Ghosts made sense.

"Why?"

Danny shrugged, keeping his gaze on the floor. "At first I think it was just because I'm the Fentons' kid. As the youngest, I made a pretty easy target when it first started."

"When _did_ it start?" Lancer was more than a little bit interested now.

"When they started coming through the portal."

"So about three years ago?"

"Mmm."

"And your parents… do they know?"

Danny tensed at the mention of his family, answering a little bit too quickly. "N-no, of course not!" At the look of horror on the teacher's face, Danny seemed to panic. "They don't need to know, Mr Lancer, I _swear_ that I can deal with it! I've gotten really good at ghost hunting, and even carry around weapons! If you tell them, the ghosts'll just attack me more often, because Mum and Dad'll overreact about the whole thing. Irrational hunters make easy targets!"

William frowned. "But so do teenagers who don't know what they're doing."

The teen stiffened, and Lancer recoiled at the inexplicable outrage that flitted across the boy's face. "I actually know _exactly_ what I'm doing," he stated coolly, settling his features into a mask of indifference.

"Yes, that certainly explains your current predicament," Lancer snorted.

Danny coloured, glaring at his teacher. "It was an accident!"

Mr Lancer was certain that he currently had the upper hand, and this gave him the confidence to press the matter. After about five minutes' contemplation, he finally voiced his questions. "Well, Mr Fenton, how _did_ you get into this fine mess? And were you already ill, or has this come about thanks to you sitting in your pyjamas on the floor of an unheated building during a snowstorm?"

The boy's eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion weighing down his limbs so that he half-collapsed against the bars of his confinement; in the brief silence, he had already started to doze. "I came down with this cold on Friday afternoon, so I went to bed early, before the snow started. The next thing I know, it's almost midnight, and I'm woken by this stupid dog trying to use my desk as a chew toy.

"Before I could catch him, Skulker showed up, and I had to fight _him_ before going after Cujo. By then, the mutt was headed through the start of the snowstorm towards the school, and we all know that the security turns on at midnight. Cujo's a good dog, and doesn't mean any harm; I didn't want Mum and Dad to catch and hurt him. I thought I had more time, but just as I caught up to Cujo right here, the ghost security turned on and trapped us."

Lancer frowned, unease coalescing in his gut. Something felt wrong about that explanation… "Who's Skulker?" It was fairly obvious that Cujo was the dog. Was Danny _naming_ ghosts like pets?

Danny scrubbed at his eyes with a fist, yawning. "Metal suit, flaming Mohawk, over-inflated ego, _lots_ of out-dated weapons…"

William nodded – he knew the one. However, knowing the ghosts' names did nothing to dismiss his unease… After a handful of heartbeats, it finally clicked. "The Chronicles of Narnia! You got out of bed to _hunt ghosts across the town?!_ " he shouted in his best 'furious educator' voice. Another horrible thought made itself known. " _Alone?!_ "

Danny bolted upright, jolted back into full wakefulness by the man's raised voice. "M-Mr Lancer… I-I-I…" Gulping, Danny clasped trembling hands in his lap. He took a shaky breath. "I only do it when I h-have to," he stammered.

"Sick? In the middle of the night? During the first snow of the year? Daniel, I think that you need to reassess your priorities. As soon as we get out of here, I'm sure your parents will-"

"No!" The tremors had increased, causing Danny's shoulders to shake.

"I beg your pardon?" Lancer's voice was quiet, but held such steel that Danny flinched. Nevertheless, the teen was not backing down.

"Y-you can't tell them."

"I can and I will, young man."

Danny seemed to fold in on himself, pressing a shaking hand over his face. "You don't know how badly that could end," he whispered.

The teacher wasn't giving up so easily. "What exactly could go wrong with your parents knowing what you're up to?"

"Everything!" Danny exploded, glaring at Lancer with eyes that the teacher could swear flashed green for an instant. "Dad could make me join their hunting, and I could slip up! Ghosts could redouble their efforts, and go directly for Mum and Dad instead of trying to fight me first! There's one ghost who's worse than the rest, and if either Mum or Dad find out anything, he'll make my life a living hell! They…" Danny's voice cracked, but he seemed not to notice as a tear slipped down one cheek. "They might figure it all out… We could all be hurt." He sniffed, keeping his gaze on the floor. "Please, they just can't know... Not yet. I'll tell them when I graduate."

His outburst exhausted, the teen slumped his shoulders.

"Mr Fenton-"

"Sorry for shouting," he mumbled, "but it's… just… Let me tell them myself. I'll do it when I graduate this spring."

Lancer gave a heavy sigh, feeling his body relax with the movement. "I'm not going to change your mind about this, am I?"

The young man shook his head stubbornly. "I don't want them fretting," he confessed. "Once I'm free to make my own life decisions without them breathing over my shoulders, I'll tell them everything."

Lancer arched an eyebrow. "Everything?"

Danny nodded miserably. "They deserve to know. Heavens, they've been given enough hints over the years!"

William frowned at the impossible teenager currently huddling in his coat. "You can practise on me if you want," he offered.

"What?" Danny's head shot up, his brows scrunching in confusion until their ends met above his nose. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it must be difficult to think of what to say. When the date's coming close, you can use me as a guinea pig to figure out what you're going to say."

"You'd do that for me?" the teen breathed. He shook himself, blinking rapidly for a moment. "I-I mean, we'll see. Thanks for the offer – it all depends on a bunch of variables, but if circumstances allow, I just might do that."

William Lancer was not an idiot; it was obvious that the boy was still hiding things from him. _It's not my business,_ he reminded himself. _I don't need to know everything about the kid._

Danny moved to settle again, sliding his body across the floor until he was curled up on his side, shivering despite the overcoat. A harsh, rattling cough tore from Danny's chest, and Lancer started at the abrasive sound. "Daniel?"

"Mmm?" the boy answered, not bothering to open eyes that had dark smudges beneath them.

"Are you cold?"

"Of course I am," he rasped, tugging the overcoat tighter around himself as if to further prove the point.

"Here." The teacher stripped off his scarf and a jacket, pushing the items through a gap between bars.

"You'll be cold," Danny protested.

Lancer shrugged. "Look at me – I'm wearing three more jumpers. I'll be fine."

"Why are you wearing so many?" Danny asked weakly, wrapping the scarf around his neck with small, brusque movements.

A shrug. "I just hate the cold, especially when it's snowing. I'd prefer to be sweltering in too many layers than chilled in too few."

Danny snorted. "And people consider _my_ wardrobe strange," he mumbled. The final word morphed into a hacking cough that shook his entire frame, and Lancer shifted back a little bit, hoping to reduce the risk of infection.

Danny noticed this, chuckling weakly. "You can't catch this – it's a ghost cold," he reassured the man.

Almost immediately, the teen's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, crap," he breathed.

The teacher stiffened. "Daniel Fenton, the last time I checked, you are not a ghost."

"O-of course not. Sorry, bad joke."

"Which explains why you're coughing up glowing phlegm," Lancer noted, trying for an offhand manner. In reality, his words were as strained as his pupil's.

Danny was shaking again. "Um, Skulker gave it to me."

"How could he _give_ it to you when humans can't be infected?"

Danny flinched at the steel in his teacher's voice. "A-a long time ago, the portal turned on with me inside," he confessed, panic flashing in his wild gaze. "It contaminated me with a bit of ectoplasm – I've got a weak ectosignature and everything. It's doesn't affect me in any other way, but I'm susceptible to ghostly illnesses. In fact, my immune system is boosted – I haven't caught a human sickness since the accident, because the ectoplasm's strong enough to fight practically anything off!"

"You're lying."

"Am not!" Danny insisted. "What other explanation makes sense, when for the past few winters I've caught colds that have had me coughing up phlegm that glows green?"

"Alright, I believe you."

The corridor lapsed into silence, the only sound the distant dull roar of the blizzard.

After a couple of minutes, Lancer had to ask. "Why _didn't_ you lie to me just then? Ectoplasmic contamination isn't something I'd think you'd want people to know about."

"I couldn't think up something convincing," Danny confessed. "I'm an awful liar, and I've got a really fuzzy head from this cold. I spoke before I could think."

"So you _were_ going to lie to me."

Danny sent him an unreadable look. "Can you blame me?"

No, he couldn't.

"So… Why do you hate the cold?"

"Because it's awful."

"I love it," the boy stated. "I want to know why anyone would hate it."

"Do you like your parents' inventions?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Danny asked.

"I'm just trying to make you understand. One of their inventions has caused you lasting pain."

Danny shifted, uncurling slightly so he could get a better look at his teacher. "May I ask what happened?"

Lancer figured that a fair trade _was_ in order, since Danny had shared the truth with him. Well, part of the truth anyway. "It killed my wife and son almost five years ago now."

Danny stiffened, eyes widening. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry about it." Lancer waved a hand dismissively. "We were in a car crash in a blizzard on a lonely rural highway. It was just before Christmas, and we were going to visit my parents. Our daughter was the same age as you are now." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "We were pushed off the road by a huge gust of wind. Elena died at the scene, and our daughter, Steph, lost the use of her arms and legs thanks to a spinal injury. I had a bunch of broken bones, but the two of us managed to get out of the situation with only minor frostbite thanks to a prompt rescue the next day. Our son, Michael, was twelve years old. H-he decided to sneak out of the car and search for help once we fell asleep – they found his body three days later. Hypothermia had killed him, not a hundred metres from the car.

"Steph and I manage well enough now – she's staying with relatives two towns over this week because one of her cousins is turning twenty-one. I need my phone so that she can call me whenever the snow makes her worry about my wellbeing…"

"And so you can call when you're worried about hers," Danny finished quietly for him when Lancer trailed off.

The teacher nodded slightly. "That's right," he whispered.

"Are you sure you don't want your scarf back?"

The teacher's posture stiffened. "You keep warm, Mr Fenton! I'll not have you get worse thanks to this infernal winter weather."

The lights flickered, buzzed, and went out. The hallway was plunged into darkness, and Lancer gave a squawk of surprise.

"Damned storm," Danny cursed. His outline slowly came into focus, and Lancer breathed out in relief as he realised that the ghost dog, along with the cages themselves, still glowed dimly with an eerie green light.

"What time do you think it is?" Danny whispered.

Lancer shrugged, an involuntary movement as it was practically invisible in such dim light. "I left home at about ten in the morning."

"So early afternoon, then." The rasping statement was followed by yet another bout of coughing. Once this subsided, the only sound coming from Danny was his strained breathing. "What time do you teachers start arriving on Mondays?"

"Most of us are here by seven-thirty."

Danny yawned. "Good – they can call m'parents."

"You're right." The teacher decided to settle. He curled on the floor as best he could, folding around himself like a cat would. "Try to get some rest, Daniel."

The only answer from the cage next to his was a light snore.

Lancer tried to sleep, but found that he couldn't. Even after the storm cleared to reveal a sky sequined with stars, the teacher could do nothing but alternate between staring out the tiny window set high in the wall, and staring at the boy and the ghost dog. Either way, the view became monotonous fairly quickly. Danny stirred once or twice, rousing only long enough to cough violently and take a sip of water from the almost-empty bottle in an effort to soothe an obviously tormented throat.

William figured that it was well after midnight when the boy's pattern of behaviour changed.

Danny was having a nightmare.

The boy thrashed on the floor, his limbs pressing against the bars of the cage as he whimpered.

"Daniel!" Lancer cried, reaching towards the teen. Danny continued to writhe, tears sliding from beneath closed lids.

"D-don't hurt my parents!" he screamed, arching his back as best he could. " _Vlad!_ "

"Daniel, wake up!"

"Please, hurt me instead! Don't kill my dad! Vlad, _leave him alone!_ "

"Daniel Fenton!" Lancer shook the terrified teen's shoulder, and Danny screamed as though mortally wounded.

"Fine, I'll change, I'll change! I'll give you the mid-morph sample, just leave my family alone!"

Lancer was wholly unprepared for what happened next. With a wordless cry and a flash of light that wrapped around the boy in front of him in twin rings, Daniel Fenton was replaced by Danny Phantom.

Lancer pulled back into his own cage as though burned. Danny continued to sob and scream, throwing himself against the bars with a force that was certain to leave substantial bruises. With a particularly violent cry, glowing emerald eyes finally flew open, Danny trying to leap to his feet and bumping his head on the cage's ceiling in the process.

He collapsed back onto the floor, dazed.

Lancer continued to sit perfectly still, shock holding him in place. Danny looked up at the ceiling of the cage, rubbing at his head. He glanced down at his hands next, horror dawning on his softly glowing features as he stared at the pristine white gloves.

Ghostly green eyes snapped up to meet human green ones.

"What…?" The teacher's voice was strained, a slight tremor running through it.

Danny began to tremble. "Damn it," he swore, moving backwards to press against the edge of his cage that was farthest away from Lancer.

" _Daniel?!_ "

* * *

For Kikai.

Thanks for reading, guys!


	2. Chapter 2

The halfa burst into Lancer's office long after dark, just as the teacher finished grading a stack of particularly horrible freshman essays.

"You _could_ knock, Mr Fenton," he snapped, kneading his fingertips into his temples in an attempt to alleviate the headache that had throbbed there for the past hour or so.

Danny moved forwards, surprising Lancer by placing cool fingers over the educator's temples. A cool sensation brushed away the throbbing heat, the headache gone as if it had never been there.

The halfa pulled away, tendrils of emerald seeping from his cerulean eyes as the supernatural glow around his hands faded. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I know you hate cold things, but –"

"It's alright, Mr Fenton; I feel a lot better now, so thank you."

Danny gave a strained smile before beginning to pace. Lancer bit back the questions that rose within him, noting with a pang of concern that the boy was trembling. And… was that red-and-green _blood_ staining a large patch of his shirt? _Again?_

The boy completed his circuit of the room twice more before collapsing into a chair with a strangled sound, tugging at the neckline of his shirt as though it was trying to choke him.

"Are you hurt?"

Danny shook his head at the quiet question. "I got cut up a bit by Skulker several hours ago now; it's already healed." He lifted the hem of his shirt, displaying a lattice of fresh, pink scars to reinforce his claim. Lancer swallowed thickly, but otherwise didn't react to this alarmingly familiar situation.

It had become an unspoken secret between the two; their lives had been changed by the night spent in those cages.

The Fentons' security system had been modified so that it no longer trapped humans, Danny's 'living' form included. The halfa's illness, however, hadn't been so easy to fix; the extended time without treatment or warmth had allowed the cold to run rampant, and with his immune system so low, Danny had contracted a particularly virulent strain of the ghostly flu. He'd been sick all the way through winter, coughing up glowing phlegm and trying to hide all supernatural symptoms from the doctors and his parents.

It didn't seem contagious, but Danny was still forbidden from attending school. He managed to do schoolwork on the days that he felt up to it, and the boy had improved his grades in every subject except gym. The ghosts had also backed off, unwilling to expose themselves to something that was proving very difficult to recover from.

The boy had been back at school now for just over a month, and the ghosts had returned with unmasked enthusiasm. They attacked one after the other, as though they were lining up on the other side of the portal. The only advantage was the lull after a particularly bad series of attacks; Danny caught all of the main offenders, and simply 'forgot' to empty the thermos for a day or two. This seemed to give him a bit of a chance to relax, but Lancer could clearly see that Danny was still exhausted.

Things in the classroom were relatively unchanged. However, Lancer no longer bothered to ask for an explanation when it came to incomplete homework, sleeping in class, or the boy's abrupt comings and goings. Sure, he gave the halfa the occasional detention, but that was only to avoid as much suspicion as possible.

Danny was trying as hard as he could, but they had talked long and late one night shortly after the cage debacle. There had been a lot of demands, and compromises were adopted by both parties. Lancer had finally conceded that Daniel was practically an adult; whatever the teacher chose to do, he had to respect the hero's wishes.

Lancer relaxed at the realisation that Danny wasn't about to die on his office floor thanks to ghost hunting injuries. Instead he quirked an eyebrow, pushing aside the stack of freshly graded essays and steepling his fingers. "It's very late, Daniel. You're still recovering your strength, so you should be heading to bed."

Danny sent the man a pleading look. "I need your help."

Stretching luxuriously, the teacher gave a groan of relief. "Well, out with it. I need to go home to Steph."

The ghost boy slumped forwards, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "Mum and Dad… I-I think…" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I think that they're figuring it out."

Oh.

William got up, moving to sit in the seat beside Daniel. "How much do you think they know?" he asked quietly. "You planned to tell them when you graduate – can you keep them in the dark until then?"

Danny shook his head in despair. "Mum's too smart. Dad, maybe, but Mum? She won't last a week, let alone the month until graduation!" He looked at Lancer with panic-filled eyes. "The ghost flu clued them in, I think, and she commented this morning that they want to talk to me about my ghost half when I get home."

Lancer placed a comforting hand on Danny's shoulder, reasoning that nobody was around to notice and report the contact this late at night. "What did she actually say?"

"She said, 'When you get home, your father and I want to talk to you about Phantom'." Danny's shoulders began to shake. "I texted Mum to tell her that I'm studying late at Sam's, but I think she called them up to look for me a little while ago, because she keeps ringing my phone; I had to turn it off so I could focus on catching Technus just then!"

Lancer sighed heavily. "Mr Fenton, I have to go home. If you're not ready to face your parents yet, you can use my guest bedroom, but _only_ for tonight – we have to sort this out sooner or later, after all."

"Thank you so much!" Danny stood quickly, helping the teacher pack up. It was more than the hero had allowed himself to hope for, and definitely better than his plan to sleep in one of the trees that ringed the park.

As Danny carried the teacher's incredibly heavy bag out to the car park, Lancer fished for his keys. He had thought that the boy would fly to their destination, but Danny quietly got into the car. It took the halfa three tries to buckle his seatbelt thanks to trembling fingers.

"Have you eaten, Daniel?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah, all I've had since lunch is a bit of emotion."

"How about a Nasty Burger?"

The boy smiled tentatively. "I'll pay," he offered.

Lancer put the car into drive and pulled out onto the street. "You most certainly will not – taking care of you is the least I can do."

Danny shrugged, the mere prospect of food and a safe bed visibly calming him. "I eat a lot," he warned. "My core needs a lot of energy, y'know. Emotions and triple servings of food are usually enough to keep me going, but I can sometimes still end up with my ghost side starving, and then I need to spend a lot of time in the Ghost Zone to absorb the ambient energy. In extreme cases, I even have to eat ectoplasm."

Lancer sighed, slumping over the steering wheel as they waited for traffic lights to turn green. "Your secret becomes more complicated every time we talk about it."

"Um, sorry?" Danny smiled sheepishly, rubbing at the nape of his neck.

"Don't be," Lancer advised, finally moving through the intersection and pulling into the fast food joint's drive-through. "Now, what'll it be?"

Danny grinned. "You sure you want to do this?"

The teacher smiled in response. "Daniel Phantom, I'm more than happy to feed you as much as you need tonight."

They sat in Lancer's car in the Nasty Burger's car park, and Danny pulled up his legs to sit cross-legged in the shotgun seat. The teacher had long since finished his food, and watched in amusement as Danny licked at the juice that dribbled from the wrapper of his fourth – and final – burger.

"How do you have room? I mean, your stomach's only so big…"

Danny gave a genuine, carefree laugh. "My ghost side absorbed most of it straight up," he confessed, moving on to the large carton of fries. "The ectoplasm sort of engulfs my stomach and transforms the food into spectral energy. I dunno how it works beyond that, so don't ask. Now I'm just feeding my mortal body." He paused, licking salt from his fingertips thoughtfully. "Well, as mortal as something like me can get."

Lancer took a large gulp of a Nasty Shake. "You're _not_ mortal, are you?"

Danny shook his head at the soft-spoken question. "Of course not. Vlad, for all that he's a fruitloop, has at least helped me understand what I am exactly. You know, I'm going to stop aging as soon as my core matures."

"Matures?"

Danny sighed. "Sorry, ghost jargon. When my ghostly core matures completely, it'll be fully integrated with my body; no more silly power slips, or loss of control. It should happen about my tenth deathday. When it _does_ happen, I'll be fully immortal, and I'll live forever." His voice turned bitter, and Danny busied himself with devouring the final few fries.

Lancer knew better than to push the boy. Instead, he advised Danny to buckle his seatbelt, and drove them across town to the small house that William shared with his daughter. Along the way, the late-night news update played through Lancer's crackly radio. Danny slumped in his seat, hiding his face in his hands as a triple homicide was announced. This reaction caused Lancer to wonder for one horrible moment if the boy blamed himself for being unable to stop every crime that occurred within the city's boundaries.

The halfa only perked up when the story changed to detail Amity Park's miracles; over the past year or so, people with incurable conditions had miraculously healed overnight. It was only in Amity Park, and there was no indication as to how this was possible. If anything could make the case even more unusual, it was that a healing occurred only once every two to three weeks, as though the mysterious 'Amity Angel' needed time to recuperate. Lancer shut off the radio, huffing good-naturedly and pulling into the driveway.

"Does Steph know?" Danny asked as they got out of the car. "You know, about Phantom."

William shook his head, leading the way up a path that snaked through the overgrown garden. "No," he whispered, "she doesn't. I promised that I wouldn't tell _anyone_ , didn't I?"

The ghost boy ducked his head, the flush on his cheeks visible in the light that filtered through thin curtains across the living room window. "I know, but… thank you."

The teacher chose not to respond, instead ushering the teen through the front door. "Steph, it's just me," Lancer called, kicking off his shoes and padding through to the living room with Danny in tow.

The girl in the wheelchair flicked her eyes away from the television screen, grinning broadly at the sight of her father. "Hi, Dad!" she chirped, gaze shifting to Danny. "Who's this?"

Lancer chuckled, moving towards his daughter and running a hand through her short, black hair. "This is Daniel Fenton. The one who I got stuck in those cages with?"

Steph's smile broadened. "Hi, Daniel. Thanks for taking care of my dad – he can be a bit of an idiot sometimes."

The ghost child decided that he liked this young woman, especially the way that her eyes sparkled with the simple joy of being in the company of friends. "It's Danny," he offered, "and Mr Lancer took far more care of me than I did of him."

Those sparkling quicksilver eyes crinkled in a gentle laugh.

"Daniel, I'll just get the guest room ready for you," Lancer announced, ambling down the hallway.

Danny perched on the edge of the couch, shooting the quadriplegic woman a sidelong glance. "It's okay," she offered, "I'm used to people staring."

Danny shook his head, turning his gaze to the television without actually seeing the screen. He had the strength to do it, but this was the only secret that _nobody_ knew, and he rather wanted to keep it that way…

Fidgeting, Danny stole a glance at Steph again. She was watching the T.V., but it was obvious that she didn't see the screen; her mind was elsewhere, imprisoned by a broken body.

The halfa slipped into ghost form, flinching as the flash of light caused Steph to snap back out of her daydream. Her eyes found his, and the woman's expression froze. Danny pressed a gloved finger gently against his lips, whispering, "Please don't scream; I'm not going to hurt you."

Steph took a shuddering breath. " _Phantom?_ " she breathed, tensing as he shifted along the couch until he was sitting directly next to her wheelchair.

"This'll be faster if you tell me exactly where your spine broke," he murmured, kneeling on a cushion and removing his gloves to run icy fingers across the back of her exposed neck.

"It's been you this entire time? _You're_ the Amity Angel? Danny… oh, _there!_ "

Danny increased the pressure against the spot that she indicated, splaying his fingers across her skin and reaching with his powers to find the damaged area. Everything around him fell away, and Danny pressed his hands over the spot, pouring all of his strength into a burst of power that shot from his hands, enveloping the tissue with a freezing beam of healing.

It was over as quickly as it had begun, and Danny slumped back onto the couch, leaning his head back and panting as his limbs shook with sudden exhaustion.

Steph screamed for her father, and Lancer came running.

The teacher paused at the sight before him; Daniel was in Phantom form, lying on the couch and weakly tugging gloves back over trembling fingers. In the wheelchair, Steph… Steph was _moving_ , clenching and unclenching her fists as she stretched her legs out in front of her.

It suddenly made sense.

Lurching forwards, William enveloped his daughter in a hug, and in one glorious, impossible movement, she _returned the gesture._

His breath caught, and Lancer realised that he was sobbing into his daughter's hair, tears flowing freely as he held onto her as though she would disappear if he let go.

They broke apart at a flash of light, and Steph sat back on the carpet as Lancer reached for the human form of Daniel Fenton that currently crouched on the couch, eyes closed and panting in exhaustion. The boy let out a surprised squawk at the sudden contact, but resigned himself to the hug as Lancer dissolved into hysterics. "Thank you," the teacher wailed, "thank you so much!"

Danny squirmed in the man's arms, phasing out when he became too uncomfortable. "It's no big deal," the boy insisted, rubbing at the back of his neck as a furious blush crept across his face and down beneath his collar.

Steph braced against the arm of the couch, using it to lever herself to her feet, an activity that she had thought she would never perform again. She hugged him with considerably less ferocity than her father, but held onto the boy for a longer period of time. Danny allowed himself to be held, stroking the woman's hair as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"There's no need to thank me," the teen insisted. "You might want to go see a doctor tomorrow, though – you're going to need rehab to get your muscles back to normal, since you haven't used them in so long. Don't move around too much until you go to the hospital, okay? This healing is permanent, and your spine's back in perfect condition – no scarring or anything."

"You seem used to giving this little speech," Lancer whispered as he once again hugged his daughter, as if to reassure himself that this was actually happening.

Danny raised one shoulder and lowered the other in a noncommittal movement. "I vary the different people that I visit," he confessed. "Two weeks ago it was a teenager with terminal cancer, and three weeks before that it was a child born blind and deaf. I only have enough strength to heal one person every fortnight or so, but I do what I can."

Lancer nodded, deciding not to press the halfa. He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. "Well, I think that this calls for a celebration. I don't have any cake, and I'm _not_ about to give you alcohol, Daniel. How about we sit down to some brownies and ice cream?"

In the end, Danny collapsed from exhaustion as they washed the dishes after the impromptu dessert. Lancer carried him to the guest bedroom, laying the fully clothed teen on the bed and simply throwing a blanket over him.

Danny emerged from his morning shower just in time to witness Steph's carer leap around the kitchen, squealing in joy for the miraculously healed girl. He sent the stranger a wary smile, accepting a bowl of steaming porridge from Lancer and fleeing to the solitude and relative quiet of the living room. The teacher joined him shortly afterwards, leaving Steph and her now former carer to converse excitedly over breakfast.

Danny smiled lazily. "This is the best bit," he confessed. "I often go invisible to check over them for a few days after the healing. I love seeing the positive impact."

Lancer clapped a hand to the boy's shoulder. "And you still think that your parents won't be proud?"

Danny stiffened. "Mr Lancer –"

"I took today off for two reasons. This afternoon, I've scheduled an appointment with Steph's doctor. But this morning we're going to visit your parents."

The ghost child shuddered. "What do I say to them?" he whimpered.

Lancer shrugged. "Just tell them the truth. They definitely deserve to know, and I don't like to think how worried they must have been last night when you didn't come home. I was going to ask that you call them, but I think we all got a bit distracted."

"But what if –"

"If it goes drastically wrong, I'll always have the spare room open for you."

Danny's mouth jerked in something that was probably supposed to be a smile. "Can you come with me?" he breathed.

Lancer paused, feeling his heart clench at the lost look that had overtaken his student's features. "I promised that I'd help you in whatever way you needed," he reminded the boy.

Danny nodded curtly. "Thanks. But… can we go now, please? Before I freak out too much?"

He was shaking already.

"They'll always love you," Lancer promised, briefly giving Danny a one-armed hug before taking their plates to the kitchen.

They were sitting in the FentonWorks driveway within twenty minutes. Danny moved mechanically, jerkily getting out of the car and leading the way to the front door. His feet dragged on every step, and the boy stood on the top one, his finger hovering over the button for the doorbell.

Lancer placed a hand on his shoulder. "Daniel, calm down. It's your home, remember? You don't need to ring the bell."

"R-right." Danny opened the door, stepping into the living space with a visible shudder; ominous whirring sounds drifted up the staircase leading down to the lab, orange light flickering through the gap in the half-open steel door. Lancer followed, closing the front door behind him as Danny situated himself in the middle of the foyer. "Mum, Dad, I'm home!" he called in a shaking voice.

The sounds beneath them abruptly ceased, and footsteps thundered up metal steps. The biohazard door was thrown fully open, and Jack Fenton pulled his son into a tight embrace, letting loose a sound strangely similar to a sob.

"Danny-boy, where have you been?" he demanded. The man's voice held no strength; it was weak, defeated, and broke on the last word. "We've been so _worried!_ "

The halfa's shoulders crept towards his ears. "W-we need to talk," he rasped. "Where's Mum?"

Jack jerked his head in the direction of upstairs. "She went to have a shower. We were going to wait until school started, and if you didn't turn up there, we were going to find the boo-merang." The large man focused his attention on Lancer. "Thank you for bringing him home, but we have to have a family conversation now."

Danny swallowed thickly. "Lancer stays," he announced. Jack turned sad eyes towards his son, and the halfa continued, shoving trembling hands into his pockets. "No weapons, okay? We… c-can we all just sit and talk, with no weapons for once?"

The hunter nodded slowly. "I guess we owe it to you," he responded quietly, unclipping his utility belt and beginning to relieve himself of any hidden weapons, placing them gently in a basket situated beside the lab door.

Danny tensed at this sentence, any hope that his parents hadn't figured it out dashed by those simple words. It didn't help that Jack kept glancing at him, hopelessness evident on the large man's face.

"Danny?" The voice from the stairs was achingly familiar, and Danny turned towards his mother. She stood on one of the final steps, auburn locks frizzy with their dampness. The expression on her face wavered before finally settling into one of relief, and the woman crossed the floor to reach her son.

She walked as if she trod on glass, gaze raking over Danny's rumpled and stained clothing.

Danny moved to meet her, allowing himself to be drawn into a gentle hug. "You've been out all night," she whispered.

Danny shrugged. "Yeah, I kinda noticed. I just needed some time…"

She pulled away, running fingers softly through his hair. "I know."

The halfa's eyes slid to the holster strapped to her hip. "Can we please do this without any weapons?"

Maddie seemed to deflate, her back losing its posture as she slumped in defeat. "Sure, Sweetie."

Once the two hunters had relieved themselves of their personal arsenals, Danny led the way to the couch, seating himself between his parents as Lancer perched on the edge of the armchair. The halfa was trembling, and Jack placed a reassuring arm around his shoulders. The room was silent, that taut type of silence that felt like it would rear up and slice them to pieces if broken.

"How much do you know?" Danny whispered, forcing the words out as though they were trying to choke him.

Maddie placed a hand on his knee. "Not much," she confessed. "You got the ghost flu, and I found that security tape of the accident under your bed. Everything just sort of… fell into place after that."

"Mum –"

"Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ it was, hunting ghosts on your own like that?" Jack cried. "Hybrid or not, you must have been seriously hurt!"

Danny glanced down at his shirt, flinching when he realised that it still bore the telltale signs of his fight with Skulker the previous evening. He licked his lips before taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't just use my powers to fight ghosts," he offered weakly, and reached over to run the tip of his finger across a cut on Jack's jaw.

The area sparked, enveloped in white light for a handful of heartbeats. When Danny drew his hand away, the mark was gone, and green flickered through his cerulean irises in tiny bolts of lightning. Danny continued his sentence as though uninterrupted, "but Mr Lancer can tell you more about that."

The teacher smiled sheepishly as the hunters turned to face him. "Daniel, I think that it would be best to show them first. We can talk all you want afterwards, but…" he didn't have to finish; Danny gave a nod of understanding, getting shakily to his feet.

The halfa seemed to contemplate something, his lips twisting momentarily in what looked to be amusement. "Going ghost," he whispered, and the room was illuminated by a flash of brilliant white.


End file.
